Mind Thief
by spiketherat
Summary: Set after 1x08. I was disappointed by this episode. A delusional killer is on the loose. Rated for violence and language.
1. Prologue

AN: Another one from me, un-beta'd. Set after 1x08 there maybe minor references to other fic's but you don't need to read them to get this. Love it or hate it, let me know what you think.

AN2: I am very interested in, and sympathetic to mental health issues. An estimated 450 million people in the world have a problem. What I have written here is at best inaccurate and extreme.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine.

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Prologue: Angel of death

The night air was cool; the light rain had started to turn heavy and wash away the sticky heat and humidity of the early autumn day. For a moment he stopped, taking shelter under the overhang of a shop doorway, and watched the throng of people in the alley across the street from him. A small sneer of distain twisted his mouth for a moment. They were queued between rope barriers; slowly shuffling past the large, black-clad bouncers, and into the dark entrance of the club. Mindless drones, like cattle, skidding and shuffling, prodded forward by thickset herdsmen into the gapping maw of the slaughter trucks.

Letting his eyes drift shut he smiled as his imagination painted a vivid picture. The loud chattering turning into frighten calls of herd animals, and the orange glow of the street lights turned to blood in his mind, reflecting in the growing puddles and painting the street in deep crimson.

He dug his hand down deep into the home made pouch inside the heavy coat, his fingers curling round thick moulded grip. Clenching the handle he hefted the weapon, feeling its reassuring weight.

The queue shuffled forward again as a couple more of _them_ were herded into the club. In his mind he saw the doors as huge steel teeth, clamping shut, chewing apart the drones stupid enough to want to go in that place. He chuckled at the irony. Tonight, for once, the people inside would be safe, it was those slow stupid ones still in the street that should be worried. With a thrill he realised that once again he controlled who would live and who would die. Would he wait for the trio of tall blondes near the front of the queue, to be ushered forward, or would it be them he _took_. He licked his lips slowly and made no move as the bouncer undid the rope and in unison they hobbled forward on heels like overgrown hooves. They owed him their lives and they would never know it.

A few more moments passed, his anticipation growing until his heart thudded in his chest so hard it felt like it was trying to explode.

A couple near the back of the queue hugged and then started kissing; they were all tongues and groping, oblivious to the people around them. His targets had picked themselves. David had told him they would.

Another pause, and then with certainty he knew it was time.

He crossed the street in ten long, measured strides. Time seemed to slow exponentially with each one.

Five meters away he stopped abruptly, sensing something wrong. He scanned the queue; someone had noticed him. No one ever saw him, but there, halfway down the queue, a man with a shock of dark spiky hair was staring right at him.

There was a moment of frozen stillness. Complete and utter stillness. They'd told him no one could invade his head, no one could steal his thoughts, but in that second he realised they were wrong. The man whose blue eyes met his wasn't just another _Drone._ The stranger knew what he was here for, it was there in the fear and shock painted on the pale features.

A _Mind Thief_.

His heart thudded once as though shocked back into action at the realization, and time started again. His targets were irrelevant now, in an instant everything had changed.

"GUN! Get down!"

He smiled at the mind thief's frighten yell, and pulled out the gun. The warning was too little, too late.

They all started to run but as he lifted the weapon and pulled the trigger they fell.

************************

**1 hour earlier.**

"Liv… Liv!…listen; don't worry... I'm babysitting that's all." He listened to the objections on the other end of the line, whilst ignoring Oz, who was tapping his watch impatiently. "I promise I'll be good… promise. Look Liv if we are going to get in anywhere we've got to go now." He hung up trying to not to sigh in frustration.

"Ha! You're not even officially back together and she's got you under her thumb." Oz was grinning, as he fidgeted by the door.

Toby shot him an annoyed glare. "It's not like that, she's just worried. She thinks you're a bad influence you know."

"Me!" Oz's indigent response was feigned and they shared a laugh as they left his apartment.

The evening was still warm but there was a hint of rain in the air and Toby wondered briefly if he should have brought a coat with him. He dismissed the idea of heading back; they were already late, although hopefully, if they got a move on, they could avoid the lines.

There was a small queue of people at the bus stop; a mix of people dressed for a night out and shift workers in uniform. Leaning on a nearby railing Toby started to shore up his mental defences. He had a pre-club ritual that helped him not only cope with the pressure of so many minds, but actually allowed him to enjoy a night out. One of the bonuses of Oz knowing about him was he no longer got hassled if he took a moment or two to sort his head out.

After a couple of minutes he let out a slow relaxing breath and opened his eyes. Oz was chatting away to a poor brunette in a cleaner's uniform. As was his duty, Toby rescued her by distracting his partner. "So mister 'bad influence' what are the plans for tonight?" he asked.

Oz smirked and Toby didn't need to read his mind to know out what Oz's intentions for the night were. "Epoch reopened last week. I thought we should make sure we are _seen_ on the _scene_."

Toby raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to bankrupt me?" Epoch was expensive and exclusive; and all reports suggested that after the refurbishment it was going to be doubly so. One night out there would clean out his entertainment budget for the month.

Oz batted him lightly on the shoulder as the bus pulled up. "You only live once man."

They got off at King and University as the rain began to fall; a light drizzle that helped take the sticky humidity out of the night air.

Oz nudged him as they set off down King Street West. "There you go. That's got to be a good reason to come out."

He tilted his head following his partners gaze. Three very tall blondes, wearing very little clothing, were walking on the other side of the street. They weren't necessarily Toby's type; Oz was the one that liked women with at least a foot in height on him, but the view was not unpleasant. Oz was practically drooling, and Toby grabbed his elbow to stop him bolting across the road. "Steady on Romeo, I thought we were going to the Epoch."

Oz looked at him incredulously as he sped up to keep pace with the girls on the opposite side of the street. "It's called flexible planning man. You need to anticipate, respond quickly to changes in circumstance."

"It's called stalking _man_." Toby replied. "What if they aren't going to a club?"

Oz spared him another quick glance, looking at him like he was an idiot. "Well are they?"

"Oz, I…" Toby started to protest but realised it was probably futile; instead he shifted the focus of his attention, opening his mind, and rearranging his mental balance. It didn't take long. "Bar 122."

Oz stopped abruptly and patted him on the back. "You know what Toby, I think you're right Epoch is very expensive, and we haven't been to 122 for ages," he said grinning. "And see; now we aren't stalking anyone."

Toby rolled his eyes as they crossed the street, the delay putting them at a more respectable distance from his partner's _quarry_. "Oz, I can't help feeling this isn't using my powers for good."

They weren't the only ones who'd decided to detour to trendy club in Adelaide Street, the line, while not particularly long, was moving slowly and there was a guest list in operation. Oz bounced on his heels impatiently as they stood waiting. The blondes they'd followed were approaching the front of the queue and it was clear Oz didn't want to loose sight of them for too long.

The rain was getting heavier and, without his coat, Epoch was looking a much better option. Sighing Toby glanced round the line and fought the urge to relieve his boredom by prying on the other clubbers minds.

It came slowly; at first he thought he'd slipped up and let his normal barriers down. But it was more insidious than that, a creeping sense of wrongness that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. As it grew louder he tuned Oz's babbling out and scanned over the queue, opening himself up to their thoughts. Nothing unusual came to him at first and then there was the sense of distain; distain and anticipation. As his mind grabbed on to the sensation the street around him changed. The rain and sense of boredom was replaced by blood and fear.

Then a figure appeared, striding from the shadows, the glowing, fiery, form of the angel of death.

Somewhere, deep down, he knew he was just seeing through the mind of someone else, but the imagery was so detailed, so powerful, it bordered on painful.

Engulfed in flames, it strode from the darkness. A glowing sword hung by its side, blood dripping from the white hot blade, and mixing with the pools of red rain on the ground.

Toby's mind reeled at the intensity of the thoughts, and he tried to push them to the side, see with his own eyes what was really happening. He couldn't; instead he watched frozen, trapped in the fantasy as the figure flickered and wavered, then loomed closer.

_Mind thief_

The sudden, startled thought broke him free from the grip of the vision. Abruptly reality came flooding back. The glowing figure was gone, replaced by the glimpse of a shadowy face under a dark baseball cap, and a glimpse -- mentally-- of his intentions.

Without a thought Toby yelled a warning and grabbed Oz, pushing him down to the ground as all hell broke loose.


	2. Chapter 1: Aftershocks

Chapter 1: Aftershocks

Acting on adrenalin and instinct he ran.

Ran hard down Adelaide, and then down to King. He dodged the few cars that were about, some of them coming close enough that they had to stop suddenly with squealing brakes and blaring horns. Taking the main routes he was thrilled by the thought that _everyone_ could see him now. His plan had been to take the alleys and the smaller streets; ducking in the shadows and hiding away in a pathetic attempt not to be noticed.

All of his plans had been abandoned now.

He paused when he reached the rail tracks, slowing to a walk. His whole body was riding on a wave of euphoria. He had nothing to fear. No one was following him, and even if they were what could they do to him?

In those seconds; those few short seconds before he'd fired the gun, everything had changed.

He was right.

They'd told him that he was ill. They'd made him listen to their lies as they tried to rearrange his thoughts; confuse him with their false logic. It didn't matter because David had been telling him the truth, and he was right.

He reached the underside of the expressway and stopped resting against a high concrete post. Tonight had been special; before tonight the drones had never noticed him, never looked at him. In everyday life, if he had to speak to them, they just grunted or mumbled in reply. It was as though they were talking to thin air.

He thought back to the man in front of the club, he was a _mind thief_, Eric knew it with an unshakable certainty. He hadn't seen what had happened to him, had he been shot? Eric hoped not, he had a million questions and finally he might have found someone who could answer them.

********

With trembling hands he pulled the improvised pressure bandage tighter around the leg wound, shutting out the moan of pain it caused. Moans and sobs flooded his ears, and petrified, scattered thoughts did the same inside his head; he could barely think. Toby gritted his teeth and took a deep breath trying to push the flood back as he worked on his patient.

After a moment or two he was done, the flow of bright red blood temporarily stemmed. Still applying steady pressure to the wound, he slowly scanned the street, trying to assess the situation. He was relieved to see Oz on his feet and moving down by the far end of the alley, it was clear he was working triage, organizing people and checking on the injured.

Their eyes met for a moment and Toby gave him a terse nod, but he resisted trying to sense if Oz was attempting to communicate with him. His head was pounding and his mind felt raw, there was too much going on for him to take the risk.

A few feet away from him lay the body of a young man; he was wearing a thin lime silk shirt, and black designer jeans. The look, while pretty cool, was ruined by the fact a chunk was missing from the back of his head, and his shirt was slowly turning dark red with blood. Toby choked back bile and looked around trying to take in the rest of the scene.

"You." He called out to a woman who was sat nearby; she was sobbing quietly as she hugged her knees to her chest. She looked up at him and he glanced down at his hands. "Can you put pressure on this for me? Tightly. Don't let go."

Her terror battered at his mind, but she nodded and with unsteady hands took his place.

Getting to his feet, he quickly strode to the young man's body and couldn't help checking his neck for a pulse he knew wouldn't be there.

Nearby a doorman leaned over another wounded man, Toby knelt down next to him and looked at the injuries with growing despair. He'd been shot high in the chest and his breaths were already laboured and gurgling. He nudged the large bouncer aside murmuring, "I'm a paramedic."

A commotion at the entrance to the club made both men jerk their heads up looking towards the noise. A small group of people had gathered by the door and Toby could imagine rumours and panic passing through the club like wildfire.

He shot a quick look at the doorman who was already getting to his feet. "Don't let anyone out unless they're a cop or a doctor," he said urgently.

The other man glared at him for a second. "There'll be a crush."

Toby shook his head and looked across the street. "Did you see where the shooter went?" he asked pointedly. The doorman got the message because he grabbed a couple of his companions on the way over to secure the club.

Toby turned his attention back to the injured man. Pulling aside his shirt, he noted a body full of Celtic tattoos as he began, unsuccessfully, to pack the chest wound. The man's breathing was getting shallow and frantic now; wild eyes staring up at the night sky. The wails of sirens could be heard in the distance and Toby muttered a quick prayer of thanks before leaning in close to the dying man's head and whispering, "hang on. Just hang on for me."

*************

Charlie slowed down as she approached the road block and flashed her badge to the uniform controlling the traffic. He waved her through and she crawled forward peering out the windscreen in shock as she got her first look at the scene.

Bright emergency spotlights were being erected at both ends of the street and the flashing blue lights of numerous police cars and emergency vehicles gave the impression the club's dance floor had been brought outside for the night.

She parked up where directed and was greeted by Steve Mason, a detective so green he was even her junior. He shook his head slowly. "It's bad. Very bad."

Under the harsh glare of the spotlights there were areas of the alley that looked like they'd been painted red. In some of those areas plastic packaging, needles, and the other remnants of paramedic activity lay abandoned. Elsewhere, four… no five blanket covered bodies lay in their own large pools of blood.

"Five!" She exclaimed involuntarily, cursing at the slight quiver in her voice. Mason wasn't exaggerating. This _was_ bad.

He shared a sympathetic look with her. "Six, there's at least one DOA. But based on what the EMT's said that figure's going to grow." He indicated the ground around them. Shell casing littered the floor, there were a lot. "We've had at least seven ambulances out".

Charlie crouched and without touching anything took a closer look at the casings. "9mm."

"We haven't found a weapon yet, but from the witness statements so far it may have been an automatic."

Charlie nodded in agreement as she stood again. "Becker's on his way but in the meantime let's get uniforms taking initial statements and details from anyone here when it happened."

Mason nodded. "All done. I sent a few uniforms to the hospitals as well; the paramedics took eleven people in, and I think several of the walking wounded may have made their own way before the scene was secured."

"Good work," Charlie said distractedly as she turned to the nearest body. Lifting the blanket she smothered her gut reaction and tried to keep it professional. The body was that of a young, twenty something, male. He was semi naked and covered in tattoos. The ridged airway, multiple IV's and pressure bandages indicated he'd survived the initial attack; for a short while at least.

Upset, she flicked the blanket back over the corpse and stood slowly. "This is not good. Is there anything else?" she asked with a sense of dread.

Mason started to flick through his notebook. "Oh yeah. Your paramedic was here."

"His not my paramedic," Charlie snapped back irritably.

He shot her a disbelieving look and then continued, "well it turns out he, and the fat guy who thinks he's a comedian, were here when it happened."

Charlie's gut churned instantly and she clenched her jaw. She'd assumed he meant that Toby had been amongst the paramedic crews sent out, not here during the shooting. Thinking about it she didn't know why she was surprised that, somehow, the trouble magnet that was Toby Logan had ended up in the middle of this one.

Mason reached out with a calming hand, which she wanted to break when she saw the smug look on his face. "He's okay. He and his partner left with the first wave of ambulances. It was all hands on, but I don't think he was hurt." Mason paused and flicked though his note book again. "One thing though, a couple of the doormen said someone shouted a warning before the shooting started, and one of them pointed the finger at your boyfrie… at Logan."

Charlie blinked but prided herself on her lack of noticeable reaction, despite her sudden interest. That meant it was more than likely Toby had sensed something from the gunman, maybe something that would help them catch him. Her immediate instinct was to head off to the hospital and find out exactly what the telepath might have picked up on. She knew she'd have to wait though. It would be a while before they could clear the scene and until then she'd be needed here.


	3. Chapter 2: The dust settles

AN: Bit of a filler chapter. Sorry for the delay.

* * *

Chapter 2: The dust settles.

Toby sat on the edge of the gurney staring down at his bloody hands. It was the first moment of quiet he'd managed to find since the shooting. Well as much quiet as a telepath could get in the middle of a hospital. He was still on edge, running on adrenalin, and he felt hyperaware; the thoughts of the patients and staff crawled through his head like a thousand ants.

Picking a point on the floor, he concentrated, letting his focus narrow down. Taking in a deep breath, he held it, and after a moment slowly let it out. A pause and then, equally as slowly he took another. On the third, as his breath passed out through his lips, he let his fingers close in against his palms making loose fists.

Silence.

In his head at least.

Toby was pleasantly surprised. He was finding it harder and harder to keep invading thoughts at bay, for such a simple exercise to work, so completely, and amid all the stress of the night, was a minor miracle.

He could still remember the roar of terror as the shooting started. Other people's panic had washed through him like a tsunami, driving him to the ground. He'd barely noticed the crunch as his head grazed the brick wall. Barely noticed anything till Oz was there, checking his pulse, prodding him to his knees, pushing his shaking hands over a stranger's leg wound and telling him to 'deal with that'.

Looking at his hands Toby started to rub off some of the dried blood. It wasn't his, it belonged to the few people he'd tried to help at the scene.

A shudder ran through him. If he shut his eyes he could still see the alley painted in the strange black and red tones that he'd seen in the gunman's mind. He could still see the glowing figure coming toward him. Even the memory was too intense; beyond anything he'd ever encountered before. The thoughts had taken over entirely, opened him up and rendered all his barriers useless, so that when the shooting started he had been defenceless against the tide.

Now, despite the minor victory, he felt shaky and anxious. Was this another new aspect to his telepathy? Recently it seemed like every time he was close to getting a handle on the strangeness in his head it ramped up to another level. Maybe he'd had a shared hallucination of some sort, or maybe he was finally going insane.

He could see it now, confined to a mental institution babbling about seeing avenging angels. The thought made him laugh dryly.

"Hey care to share?"

"Nothing, just a bit of black humour." Toby shook his head, but managed a wan smile as Olivia entered the exam room. He hadn't sensed her coming.

She nodded tiredly and he noticed the dark rings round her eyes. Striding over to him she lightly brushed his forehead, near the graze. It wasn't a doctor's touch.

He reached up and in return stroked her shoulders trying not to cover her scrubs with more blood. "What's wrong?"

Her fingers moved up to his hair as she took another step closer to him. "It's nothing really. Just…"

"Go on," he prodded lightly.

She frowned. "Just… ten minutes before we got the call, I… I was hoping you and Oz weren't having a too good a time without me. I didn't mean for this…"

He pulled her into him and rested his face against her neck. "I know." he said softly. He felt guilty about finding solace with her when people were dead or suffering. But she had always been his escape, and he needed her more than she knew.

They held each other for a moment while he revelled in the smell of her hair and opened himself to the quiet concern in her thoughts.

Too soon Olivia pulled back from him. "So what happened to your head?" she asked, gently probing the wound. He made a move to touch it himself but she tutted and grabbed his hand. "Don't touch. What happened?"

He acquiesced, and sat patiently as she started to clean the shallow graze out. "Not sure really, I think I hit the wall when the shooting started."

"Think?" Toby recognised the serious tone, it was Dr Fawcett asking.

"Okay, not think, know. I didn't lose consciousness, and I know who and where I am," he assured her quickly.

She seemed appeased because she didn't say and thing else, just dabbed at the wound and then dressed it tenderly.

As she was finishing up Toby managed to get the courage to ask about some of the other victims. "The girl with the leg wound?"

Liv gently patted down the edge of the dressing and smiled. "She's doing alright for now. The bullet smashed her femur and she was lucky not to bleed out. Rumour has it some jumped up off duty paramedic did a good job on it?"

Toby grinned for a moment, enjoying her praise, before turning serious. "And the rest?"

She pulled away from him completely at the question. "We've lost two more. I'm not sure what that makes it in total."

"Eight." He filled in flatly.

She shook her head sadly in response. "There are still a couple in ICU that aren't doing so well."

Toby reached for her again, and pulled her back into him. "When do you get off?"

She ducked away and stood keeping a small distance between them, he could read all the objections running through her thoughts. "A few hours, but I'm tired," was all she said aloud.

"Okay rain check." He nodded sadly and watched as she left the room. They'd been getting closer recently, but there still seemed to be a rift between them. He sighed softly, of course there was a rift --his telepathy -- it was the elephant in the room in their relationship. He was beginning to realise that until he stopped holding back they'd never be as close as he wanted them to be; but if he told her he was certain he'd lose her.

He pushed the thoughts away, tonight wasn't the night to try and solve his relationship issues. Stretching tiredly he stood up. He needed to find Oz and then find a way to get home and get some much needed sleep.

***********

After a bit of searching Charlie finally found him in a rec room off the ambulance bay. He was alone and looked pale and tired. It was clear he'd attempted to clean himself up but his clothes were covered in blood, and it was smeared on his face. A white pad was taped to his forehead so he hadn't escaped completely unscathed.

She was pleased to see that, generally, he looked all right. He was half asleep though, his head nodded towards his chest and a plastic coffee cup tilted precariously in his limp hand.

"Not a good way to spend a night out," she said loudly, trying to get his attention.

He jumped, startled and the coffee slopped over his hand, making tracks in the dried blood. "Oh, hey." He shifted over a bit making space and then patted the sofa next to him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you," Charlie said as she gratefully took the space next to him.

"Long night huh?" he asked scrubbing his face with his free hand.

"Yeah. Not what I'd had in mind for the evening. Nor you by the looks of it."

Toby looked down and his ruined shirt and gave her a wry grin. "No. Definitely not in the plans." His voice sounded flat and tired.

She could tell he was exhausted but she needed to ask. "Toby, what happened?"

He opened his mouth to answer and then stopped, and stood up, his eyes flicking to the door. Following his lead she stood and the moved away from him.

It opened and Charlie turned to see Toby's partner leaning round it. "Hey partner, are you ready, our lift's here?" Oz paused noticing her presence. "Hey detective, the other cops said we could go is that okay?"

"If you've given a statement it should be fine. I just wanted to talk to Toby myself." Charlie let the reason got unspoken. Oz would know why.

Toby sighed loudly, "It's okay Oz, you get off, I'll get a bus in a bit."

"Looking like that? You'll cause a mass panic." Oz raised an eyebrow and shot a glance at Charlie.

She looked Toby up and down and silently agreed, the blood wouldn't go down well on public transport, especially with an unknown gunman on the loose. "I'm done here anyway, you were last on my list, I'll drop you home and we can talk on the way." It would be better if they had this conversation in the privacy of her car anyway.

Oz looked between the two of them for a minute and then waggled his brows suggestively. "Is that okay with you partner?" he asked.

Toby stood and for a minute Charlie thought he was going to agree, then something changed in his demeanour. There was a flicker of something in his expression, and then shutters came down abruptly. "Charlie, I'm tired." He said rubbing his face again. "I made a statement to the uniforms there's nothing I can add."

"You told them that you sensed the shooter?" She asked sarcastically, taking a step back to position herself between him and the door. She wasn't going to let him leave till he talked.

He must have picked up on her determination because he sighed heavily. "Oz shut the door." When his partner had complied he continued, "Charlie there's nothing I can tell you. I 'sensed' something was wrong, saw the guy in the shadows. When I realised what he was going to do I shouted a warning."

She glanced back at Oz; he was leaning against the closed door watching them both curiously. "What did exactly you sense? Toby?"

There was a long pause and another flicker -- fear? -- in his expression, but he shook his head. "Nothing."

Charlie glared at him but didn't speak.

"I just sensed anticipation. I saw a…" He paused for a moment struggling, "…there was a wrongness. When I tried to place it I saw him in the shadows. I don't know what else I can tell you."

Charlie sighed in frustration. "A motive would be good, or a target."

"If there was either I didn't pick up on it. Look Charlie I'm tired, if I think of anything I'll call you." His tone was cold, and as he brushed past her heading for the door she realised the conversation was over.

His unwillingness to talk surprised her; normally he was eager to help, often _too_ eager. In fact the only time he'd said no to her before was with Andy Lassiter; then he'd just been overwhelmed by the thoughts he'd read. Charlie was certain he'd sensed something, something that had him spooked, and she needed to know what it was.

The ringtone on her phone interrupted her thoughts.

It was Becker. She sighed, Toby would have to wait.

***************

Dawn was breaking over the city, the sun was starting to rise and its glow reflected off the sky scrapers in the financial district.

The autumn sun was low, a shimmering white disk that painted the skies red like he had painted the streets the night before. He watched it with a new found awe, an elation that came with the realisation he was truly alive.

The only living person in a city of two and a half million drones.

Not the only one, he corrected. He remembered being caught in intense stare of the Mind Thief. Was he still alive? He had to be.

Eric stood and left his hiding place by the quayside with a new sense of purpose. He had a new mission now.

******************

He couldn't move.

He was standing in the dimly lit alley, and he couldn't move.

Behind him he could hear crying, petrified screaming. He tried to turn his head, move his eyes, to see what was causing the panic, but he couldn't even do that. His eyes remained fixed on the doorway on the other side of the street.

As he watched, helpless, small tendrils of glowing white light started to emerge from a gap in the brickwork. Slowly at first, they grew stretching out, thickening, reaching forward until they touched the ground. Then they joined, split and twisted, writhing till they took human form.

It approached slowly, stride after stride, glowing tendrils of fire extending out from it lighting up the alley behind it. He wanted to run. To scream, to warn the people around him but he still couldn't move.

It was within reaching distance now, but he couldn't lift an arm to fend it off. Instead his stood frozen as it reached out with a hand of fire. One more step and the hand disappeared from his field of view, but he felt it. Felt the agony as the flames pierced him, slamming all the way through his gut and out his back.

Toby woke instantly.

For a second there was no awareness, nothing but him sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath.

A dream; just a dream.

Gradually his senses started to report in. His body felt hot and clammy, and his mouth was dry and tasted rank. He took a few cleansing breaths using them to calm himself and to fend off the sudden barrage of thoughts in his mind.

Standing on shaky legs he found his mobile and paced for a few minutes. It was 6:30am. The apartment was still dark, but through the blinds he could see the lightening sky. It was too early, he'd had less than an hour's sleep, and given the previous evenings events, he had every right to be jumpy.

He nearly put the phone back down, but stopped, his hand hovering above his counter. _Don't be an idiot Toby_. He managed to avoid telling Charlie what he'd seen last night but he needed to talk to someone. Lifting it again he flicked it open and called the first number in his contacts.

It was answered almost immediately. "Toby?"

He took a deep breath before responding. "Ray, can we talk? Now?"


	4. Chapter 3: A deal

Chapter 3: A deal

He'd taken the opportunity to shower and make a coffee before Ray arrived. It had helped him regain his composure to the point that he felt quiet stupid when he heard the knock on the door.

"Sorry Ray, I've dragged you halfway across town for a nightmare." Toby shrugged sheepishly and beckoned him in.

Taking off his coat, Ray smiled patiently at him. "Don't worry I wasn't busy, and I'm here now so you might as well make me one of those," he gestured to the mug in Toby's hands, "and tell me why you look like death warmed over."

It didn't take long to for Toby to fix Ray a coffee. He took it over, and sat on the couch across from him. "You hear about the shootings last night? Well Oz and I got mixed up in it."

"The one on the news?"

Toby nodded gravely. "I'm fine," he said answering the unspoken question. "But I got a peculiar hit off the shooter. It was weird, intense, and I can't get it out of my head."

Ray leaned forward curious. "Tell me."

Toby felt the change in Ray's mood as he described the details of the night's events to him; but he put it down to the gruesome nature of them. It was only when he mentioned the phrase Mind Thief and Ray's thoughts flared up in recognition that he realized something was wrong. Looking up Toby was shocked by the expression Ray's face. "Ray, what's wrong?" he asked surprised.

"Toby, I want you to take a look at something at the university. You can ring your detective friend on the way." His tone was grave and he was nearly at the door before Toby realised he'd even stood up.

Grabbing his coat and gulping down the last of his coffee he had to run to catch up.

******************

Charlie knocked once on the large wooden door and then opened it without waiting.

Dr Mercer was standing behind a large mahogany desk filled completely with the clutter of academia. "Come in detective," he said as he indicated a chair in front of the desk.

"Hey," Toby said with a little wave.

She looked between the two. Toby was leaning against a small table, his fingers hovering over a large globe. He looked as tired as she felt and she wondered if he'd managed to get any sleep yet.

Dr Mercer opened one of the folders on his desk and pulled out a photo while gesturing again for her to sit down.

When she did he dropped the photo on the table and pushed it towards her, before sitting himself. "David Jansen".

She looked at the photo; it was off a white male, in his early twenties. He looked devious; he had longish hair and was eyeing the camera through a thick greasy fringe. A strange thudding interrupted her thoughts and she looked across at Toby who was now absently spinning the globe. Turning back to Dr Mercer she raised the photo and asked, "David Jansen?"

The academic leaned back casually, thought she could tell it was largely feigned. "This is off the record. When I was involved with him he was twenty one and diagnosed schizophrenic. Well miss-diagnosed. A few different professionals had seen him at the time. He had a history of violence and intmidation, my own personal view was that he was a malignant narcissist." He paused as the thud, thud of the globe spinning interrupted him and Charlie watched as he shot a glare at Toby.

"Sorry Ray." The paramedic shoved his hands in his pockets and moved closer to the desk. Charlie could the underlying tension in his demeanour.

"Look…" she started impatient to find out where this was going.

Dr Mercer waved her quiet and handed her sheet of paper with scrawling writing on it. "He was delusional. He believed that the majority of people around him were just drones, shells without free will, under the control of some shadowy government agency. He believed that the government had an array of different soldiers that worked to keep the system in place including a group he called 'mind thieves'. Jansen viewed himself as a freedom fighter, enlightening the mindless drones, building an army of Danites, avenging angels to bring the system down."

He pulled out a second photo from the file, and turned it towards them. It was a copy of a pencil drawing. A street was drawn in black, tall buildings looming over it. In the centre the absence of black marks formed a strange almost glowing humanoid form. Tall white and imposing, like an angel without wings. The only color on the picture were dark scratches of red dashed over the bottom where the street would be.

Beside her there was a sharp intake of breath. She turned and looked at Toby. He had gone as white as a sheet.

"Is this what you saw?" Dr Mercers prodded gently.

She watched intently as Toby pulled up a nearby chair and slumped in it. "Yes," he answered quietly.

Taking the second picture Charlie turned round completely to face him and reached out to get his attention. "You 'saw' this last night?" At his nodded she added, "in the mind of the shooter?"

"Yeah."

Charlie quickly put a tight rein on the anger that had suddenly flared; this had been what he'd been hiding from her at the hospital.

Toby must have read her thoughts though because he turned on her angrily. "What did you expect me to say? I had a shared hallucination; the angel of death did it." He stood suddenly and paced across the office. "What good would that have done?!"

"Toby." Dr Mercers tone was stern, and there was a moment of heavily loaded silence. Charlie recognized she was missing some unspoken communication.

After a few seconds Toby sat back down again and turned to her. "Normally the things I hear or read are flashes, random images." Toby's eyes lost focus for a few seconds as he tiredly brushed a hand across his forehead.

Dr Mercer used his distraction to interrupt. "The neurology of thought is still largely unknown and complex, but thought isn't linear. You think about walking your dog, neurons fire and adjacent pathways, those related to walking, or animals or anything that, in that particular individual's mind is vaguely related, may also be triggered."

Charlie nodded, beginning to understand. Random like a clown face in the middle of a murder investigation. She realised how much Toby must be filtering his impressions for her to make them coherent. She turned back to him. "What exactly did you see?"

Toby looked at her for a long moment. "In short that." He gestured to the photo. "The long story? That's all I saw, _nothing else_. There was nothing at all, no random flashes, no associated thoughts. It was just that thing crossing the street to kill us. Then suddenly the phrase 'Mind Thief'."

He rubbed his face with his hands and she thought he was going to continue. When he didn't she turned back to Dr Mercer. "You think this Jansen was responsible for last night?"

The academic gave her a wry smile, "I would suspect him, if he wasn't dead. He committed suicide two years ago."

"Great," Charlie muttered. She'd found and loss a suspect in a matter of seconds.

"These delusions are very specific. They formed a fundamental belief system on which every other aspect of his life was built. Although some of the elements are borrowed from Mormon and other religious folklore, it's highly implausible that someone else spontaneously came up with a similar set of delusions; especially the including concept of mind thieves."

Toby interrupted. "What I saw wasn't just similar, it was the same. Exactly the same."

Charlie looked between the two. "So our narcissist has been sharing with someone."

"Malignant narcissist," Ray corrected. "And yes that would be my assessment."

"Okay." She stopped to think, order her thoughts. "First question; the mind thief thing? Does that mean whoever is doing this knows Toby is… a telepath?" As she asked the question the tension in the room ratcheted up a bit. There was long pause and she knew she was missing out on another one-way conversation.

"No." Dr Mercer's tone was firm but she got the distinct impression Toby disagreed. "Whoever did this is highly delusional and a sociopath. The fact Toby visibly noticed him, was probably enough."

Toby opened his mouth to speak but Ray stopped him. "How would he know? I hate to tell you this but when you read intense thoughts you tend to take on a deer in headlights expression, it's not subtle. Either our delusional killer, already obsessed with the concept of 'mind thieves', sees you staring at him and shouting a warning before he's pulled his gun and jumps to a conclusion, or he's…"

"A telepath." Toby finished.

The sigh was one of patient frustration. "Toby, you are seeing things that aren't there. I'm not going to discount the possibility entirely, but we need to focus on the plausible explanations, right detective?"

"Right." Charlie agreed, not wanting to get involved in whatever disagreement was going on under the surface.

After a short pause Ray turned back to her. "So Detective Marks what else can I tell you?"

"I need to know everything you do about this man." She gestured to the photo.

"I can do better than that. Jansen spent much of his adult life in institutions. I can make some quiet enquiries and get you a list and find out whether he had any _special_ friends while he was there."

Charlie bristled for a moment. "This is an angle and I'm glad you've brought it to me." She paused eyeing Toby meaningfully. "But you need to let me investigate this not run off half cocked."

Dr Mercer didn't seem offended by her accusation. "No one at those places will let you see their files without a court order, and I assume you wouldn't be granted one on the basis of some telepathic insights." He leaned forward his tone hardening. "I hope you wouldn't even try."

"Ray…" Toby interrupted a warning tone in his voice.

Charlie put her hand up to stop Toby before he could defend her. "I can assure you that I have no intention of exposing Toby or putting him at risk." She wasn't surprised this had come up, more that fact it had taken him so long to voice his concerns to her. Although Dr Mercer had worked with her and Toby on the Lasiter murders, she had sensed some hostility from him and he'd made it clear he was helping Toby rather than the police.

She was aware that Toby was watching them both intently and she wondered what the mini battle of wills must feel like from his perspective. _Why is it I feel like I'm asking you dad if I can take you to the prom? _

The thought had the effect she wanted. Toby laughed loudly suddenly grinning from ear to ear, and Dr Mercer shot him a surprised look. Something must have passed between them because Toby shook his head and said, "I'll tell you later."

He seemed to accept that because he turned back to Charlie. "I can do some quiet groundwork until you're in a position to take this to your boss." He paused considering something for a moment. "And until then you don't have this." He closed the file and pushed it across the desk towards her.

She took it, flicking through the pages before letting it rest in her lap. "Okay, thank you." She turned to Toby and pointed a finger at him. "We need revise your statement."

*******************

"You're angry at me." The statement was flat, without the cocky humour she was used to hearing from him.

Pulling out of the university car park she started towards his apartment. He seemed so tired and down, she wanted to deny it but she couldn't. She was angry. This case was bad and the fact he'd failed to pass on vital information pissed her off.

He must have read her thoughts as he seemed to curl in on himself slightly. She looked across at him; he was staring out the window. "Sorry Charlie."

They hadn't travelled very far and she was just passing one of the student car parks. She indicated and pulled into a parking space. Cutting the engine she turned to him. "Look this is not your fault, but I wish you'd been honest with me last night."

There was an angry snort. "Hey, Charlie, I know who did it, I had a shared hallucination. It was the angel of fucking death with a sword of fire."

It was the first time she'd heard him swear like that, and the first time she'd heard him so angry. She'd known about his ability for several months now and she was only just beginning to realise how badly she was using him. He wanted to help so she didn't feel guilty, but all this time she'd taken everything he said at face value. At first it had been through fear of what he might take from her personally, but she was a cop for god sake, she knew better to let a witness control the agenda.

He was watching her with a strange intensity and she wondered if he was following her train of thought. That was the problem she had no idea how much he could hear or how any of it worked.

She kept her thoughts as neutral as possible. "You're right. If you had said to me the angel of death had done it I'd have reacted badly and I'd have been wrong to. I'm sorry."

Toby looked at her clearly still angry, but he didn't reply so she continued. "Look I can't lie to you, I can't hide my reactions from you so I'm apologising right now if at times I don't treat what you say seriously." He started to object but she continued, "Toby, a while ago you promised to tell me everything, was that a lie?"

"No. Charlie I wouldn't lie." He sounded upset at the accusation.

"Okay not lie. Hold back, hide things from me."

"I don't mean to," he said honestly.

"Yes, you do," she countered more aggressively than she meant to. "It's my fault for judging you early on, I know that. But you only give me snippets, things you _think_ are relevant. I need to know everything. Look Toby you aren't a cop…"

"You may have mentioned that before," he snorted dryly.

She laughed. "Well it's true. You are good at what you do Toby; your job and the mind reading thing, but if this is going to work I need you to let me do the cop thing, and part of that is deciding what is relevant and what isn't."

He looked at her and he still seemed doubtful. "How would telling you about this have helped?" he asked.

Taking a deep breath she hesitated she didn't want to make him feel worse but he had to understand. "I spent the last few hours at the station, looking into the financial records of the club owners. Becker only wants the last fifteen years or so. We've set up a unit, uniforms and detectives from across the city, all looking into the past of everyone in that queue; yourself included. We are looking at drugs, fraud, gang warfare, no one has suggested this might be the work of a nut job."

_One word from you last night and I could have tried to point everyone in the right direction. _

"I'm sorry."

Charlie winced at the guilt in his voice. "I don't want you to be sorry Toby. I want you to understand why I need the truth from you."

Toby sighed and nodded. "Ok. But you have to understand it's not as simple as me just telling you everything. Ray's right, thoughts are weird, sometimes they seem completely random; sometimes they come so fast I can barely understand what's happening." He paused staring at his palms. "Sometime I can't explain things because there aren't the words to describe what I'm… 'seeing'."

Charlie nodded. "Okay then, you do your best to explain things, I'll work on my listening skills. Deal?"

"Deal," He agreed.

She smiled at him and started up the engine again. _And don't think I'm going to become your personal taxi driver._


	5. Chapter 4: Threads and leads

Chapter 4: Threads and leads

Toby was exhausted by the time Charlie dropped him at his flat. He knew he should really eat and then try to get some sleep, but the images in his head and Charlie's anger, haunted him.

He closed the door behind him and sagged back against it. He'd screwed up, and now there wasn't anything he could do to fix it. There was nothing else he knew about the shootings, he hadn't seen anything else.

Or had he?

His mind flashed back to the moments when he and Oz tumbled to the side walk. There was the sound of the gun firing several rounds a second, and bullets striking flesh and brickwork. Then, after an eternity that lasted seconds, a moment of near silence and cold shock.

He remembered that Oz had moved first, while Toby had laid there, gasping as he tried to recover from the sensory overload. So many terrified people, their panic and suffering hammering into his skull.

It wasn't that he'd sensed nothing, but that he'd sensed everything. There was no way he could remember it all, there'd been too much for his mind to process, but some of it must have been fixed in his memory. He could see them now, flashes of thought from panicked minds.

He pushed himself upright and grabbed his laptop and projector. There was a good chance that the gunman's thoughts, if there had been any coherent ones, were somewhere in that bundle of pain and fear. Settling down he pulled out some post-it notes and a pad and started to write.

********************

The station was quiet when she got back. It was lunch time and she guessed, with the initial leg work done, most people would use the lull to rest and take a step back. Unless they got a lucky break this was going to be a long and difficult investigation.

She sat at her desk, surreptitiously took out the report Dr Mercer had given her, and flicked through several pages. After a couple of minutes she gave up trying to dig through the heavy psychological reports -- they knew for a fact this wasn't the shooter -- and concentrated on the descriptions of Jansen's delusions.

It was some of the most bizarre 'fiction' she had read; he'd developed a complete reinterpretation of the world around him. Like some matrix style fantasy the real world was just a front to keep the 'drones' satisfied. Only a few knew the truth; the government, the police, the military, and the Mind Thieves, thought police whose job it was to spy on dissenters. Jansen was obsessed with bringing it all down, freeing those he felt worthy from their slavery, and destroying those he felt deserved it. Those who deserved it seemed to consist entirely of everyone Jansen could possible disapprove of, and top of that list was young adults leading wild, drunken lifestyles. She snorted, as she read the transcript of one interview with Jansen, the word debauchery was in virtually evey sentence.

It struck Charlie that anyone buying into to Jansen's fantasies with violent tendencies would feel obliged to start putting the world to right. Whoever the shooter was, he was definitely going to kill again, and if that was the case then maybe he'd killed before.

The thought immediately caused alarm bells to sound in her head. She picked up the phone and quickly punched the speed dial.

"Hey Charlie, how can I help?" Martha's voice was cheery and it helped her mood.

"Any chance you can dig up a couple of records for me?"

"Sure thing, though I'm not sure what's left down here, you guys have most of the archives up there."

"Well have a look anyway; I'm after the Richmond Park shooting and that one about two months ago, that couple at the bus stop."

"I know the bus stop one, the Wilkins file; it was sent up there this morning." There was a short pause and she could hear the clicking of a keyboard. "Yeah it's with Mason." There was another pause and more clicking. "The park shooting is still here I'll get it sent over. Do you want the case number in the meantime?"

Charlie took the number and hung up.

It didn't take her long to find the other file. It was at the bottom of the first of two stacks of folders on Mason's desk. A quick glance at some of the names and case numbers told her that he'd been tasked with looking into comparisons with recent unsolved shootings. She took the folder leaving a note in its place.

Back at her desk she took a quick flick through the case notes. Emily and Peter Wilkins were newlyweds. They'd been heading for a night out at a bar. She was dressed provocatively and witness statements suggested they'd been involved in some heavy kissing before the shots were fired. Late evening with only few people about, and no one saw anything except perhaps a man in a long coat.

The other case she remembered pretty clearly without the case file, because she'd been involved in the investigation. Marian Jones was heading out to meet her friends for a night out clubing and had cut through Richmond Park. It had been the last thing she'd done. They'd been confused because the circumstances, the isolated spot, her dress and appearance, would normally point to a sexual motivation but killer hadn't touched her. It was unlikely he'd even got close. A long investigation had revealed nothing, just a one off random shooting.

Charlie picked up her phone again and dialled a different speed dial number. When the lab tech answered it was with gruff frustration. "I'm going as fast as I can."

"Hey, Martin, its Charlie take it easy."

"Sorry, I've just got you guys ringing me every 15 minutes asking whether I have anything. There's putting a rush on these things and there's miracle working. While I can push this to the front of the queue, my team has other esential work with immovable deadlines"

Charlie felt a stab of guilt as she was about do the same. "That's okay, I understand. What stage are we at? How are you doing on the casings?"

He sighed heavily. "They've been scanned and processed, finally. I was about start running them."

"That's great. I have a big favour to ask. If I gave you two case numbers could you run them against those first."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Charlie… I can't. This is too high profile; your boss has given us instructions on this already. We're to focus on drug related shootings first."

She nodded even though Martin couldn't see her; she had figured as much, it was one of Becker's preferred angles. "That's okay don't worry about it. If I give you the case numbers anyway would you be able to give me a heads up if either of them come up?"

"That I can do." Martin sounded relived that she hadn't tried to push the issue. "Charlie, if you are onto something talk to Becker, I'm sure he'd be happy to shift the priority."

"Don't worry Martin I will," she lied; she couldn't go to her boss, there'd be too many unanswerable questions at this point. "I owe you one," she added before hanging up.

That was as much as she could do for now. The office was getting busier again and her stomach was beginning to complain about lack of food. She carefully packed the Jansen folder away and headed off to find somewhere quieter to read the rest.

*************

Toby stood and stretched out his cramped muscles, trying to get some blood flow back into them. His coffee table was completely covered in random piles of notes, drawings and printouts.

There was a lot. A lot more than he thought possible, especially as he was exhausted and his mind felt like slush.

Now he was stuck. He'd tried to scan everything into the laptop and arrange it, via his projector on the wall, but there was too much and it was taking too long. He needed a way of organising the mess.

He dug out his phone and dialled, finding it somewhat ironic that he was ringing the most disorganised person he knew for help. "Hey Oz," he said as the call was answered, "it's me. I need a favour."

*************

Oz beeped the Pumpkin's horn when he arrived and Toby rushed down to meet him and help him carry the large package up the stairs to his apartment. "You better have the cash to pay me back for that. It was expensive."

Toby shrugged. "I'll get it tomorrow; you know I'm good for it."

They stood the box up by the far wall and Toby started to tear apart the packaging. While Oz wandered off. There was a low whistle from across the room.

"Don't mess it up," Toby said urgently as he precariously balanced the brand new whiteboard on a chair and against the wall.

Oz glanced back at him and then to the table. "What is it? Is this from last night?"

Toby nodded. "It's everything I picked up during the shooting. I wanted to see if I could sort it out."

"You think you picked up something from the shooter that might help?"

"Yeah, maybe, hopefully. I need to organise them, sort them into people then maybe I can work out if any of this is useful." On the last word he was overcome by a huge yawn.

"You look beat man, did you get any sleep?" Oz looked concerned.

Toby shrugged. "Not really, not enough anyway. I don't think I could sleep now, not till I get this done."

Oz eyed him for a minute "This is one of those freaky obsessive moods you get into right?"

His choice of words made Toby want to object, but in essence his partner was right, so he just shrugged. "Yeah."

"Okay I'll put the coffee on, then we can work through this mess." Oz seemed appeased and slightly amused.

Toby nodded as Oz headed to the kitchen, and then he flicked on the projector. The space by the whiteboard was suddenly filled with a satellite image of the alley at the front of Bar122. With a marker pen he traced the outlines on to the board, filling where the rope barriers had been. He had finished when Oz came back with the coffee and he sat next him on the couch looking out towards the board.

"So what's the plan?" Oz asked.

Toby pointed to several small piles away from the mess. "Those are the thoughts I've grouped together and know belong to the same individuals. I think if I work on visualising the street and the people in it I think we can sort the rest."

Oz put down his coffee and picked up a red marker. "You want the positions when the bullets started flying right?" At Toby's nod he started to put red dots between the black lines that marked the rope and the wall. Next to each one he put a number. "Get something to take notes on up on that," He said gesturing to the projector.

Toby did as he was told and as soon as he did Oz started reeling off numbers. "1 and 2 were the bouncers at the front. Those blondes had gone in so number 3 was the little brunette with the nice neck; more your type than mine but she was with her boyfriend." He tapped the dot marked 4.

"Hang on." Toby frowned remembering something. He snagged another post-it, scribbled something on it before added it to one of the small piles. Then he set the whole pile to one side. "That's number 4."

Oz peered over his shoulder. "Promised parents would look after cousin," he read. "Damn, not her boyfriend. You should look her up; she was cute."

Toby smiled, Oz was providing the light relief that he needed. "Go on," he said nodding to the board.

They continued on for over an hour, struggling more on the people that had been behind them in the queue. When they were done there were still some gaps and some of the pictures and post-it's had been pushed to on one side. Left behind, in the center of the coffee table, was a small pile each item in it marked with a black zero.

Oz stood back and surveyed their handiwork. "Wow. What now?"

Toby glanced at the contents of the small stack of paper, and then looked back at Oz gravely. "Now I ring Charlie."


	6. Chapter 5: Clues and secrets

AN: Sorry for the delay, turns out I have a life after all. Once again a bit lacking on the action but I hope people are still enjoying it.

* * *

Chapter 5: Clues and secrets

*************

Charlie stood in front of the mirror in the women's bathroom staring at her tired reflexion. She'd been up close to 36 hours and had just finished sitting through one of the most unpleasant briefings of her career.

She'd heard nothing back from Martin; it could be a while before a match on the casings came up, if at all. Proving that the killer had done this before was the only way she had of pushing the psycho angle, without a match she was working blind and alone. Meanwhile the drugs slant was looking good; the club owner had been under investigation before and, though it was nothing that would stand up in court, it was a lead that Becker wanted following more aggressively.

They were barking up the wrong tree, wasting resources on a dead end, and she had sat there and said nothing. She was a cop, a decent one, so why was she hiding things, playing cloak and dagger with her colleagues the people she should trust the most.

It couldn't go on. She'd give it till six this evening then she'd have to go to Becker. It was a risk, Becker would probably guess that information came from Toby and he'd be angry and frustrated when she stonewalled him on the details, but hopefully he'd let her run with it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. It was Logan. "Toby was is it?" She answered curtly.

"Charlie? I need you to come over. I think I might have something for you." He sounded alert and anxious, a stark contrast to his earlier exhaustion.

"Look Toby, can this wait?" she asked tiredly.

"I think you'll want to see this." He replied eagerly and her interest was piqued. He tended to get like this when he was locked onto some lead or other, and Charlie didn't feel like hanging around the station watching her colleagues waste energy on false leads.

"Okay, I'm on my way," she said, "but this better be good."

She'd no sooner hung up when her phone rang again.

"Detective Marks? I've spoken to a couple of colleagues and I think we should talk." It was Dr Mercer and she couldn't help sighing. It was getting ridiculous, when had she ended up with her own team of amateur sleuths? All she needed now was a talking Great Dane.

"Dr Mercer, I'm just about to drive over to see Toby. Meet me there if it's important." She said curtly and hung up before he had chance to object.

Leaving the bathroom she glanced across the bullpen. Becker was in his office talking on the phone. She nodded sharply making a decision; she would talk to Toby and Dr Mercer then she'd take everything she had to her boss and hope for the best.

**********

He took down each picture and article individually, carefully removing the pins and placing them aside in the small wooden box on his desk. Smoothing out each of the tattered bits of paper he carefully put a tiny spot of glue on each one and then stuck them in one of his notebooks.

It took 4 hours but eventually the wall was clear.

Empty.

He brushed a hand lightly over the expanse of painted plaster feeling the tiny bumps left by the pin holes. Like Braille. He smiled at that, the contents of the wall had guided him when he'd been blind.

Taking the pile of notebooks with him he went to the front room and looked out over the Toronto skyline. Somewhere out there, in the expanse of the city, was the one who would guide him now.

**********

The psychologist arrived at Toby's apartment at the same time as Charlie did. "Detective," he greeted her with a nod while holding the door open for her.

"Dr Mercer, what have you got for me?" She jumped straight in, still not in the mood to play games.

He seemed taken aback by her abruptness for a moment, but quickly regained his composure. "Jansen was at 1001 Queen Street West from 2001, that's where he eventually killed himself. Before that he was in facility in York, which was where he was originally committed. I met him in York, he wasn't particularly coherent in those first few years. I wouldn't discount anything, but my sources suggest that he had a lot more freedom here in Toronto, it's likely would be that whoever he met and influenced it happened here."

Charlie was grateful that he chose to be equally to the point. "Do you know who was in charge of his case here?"

"A man called Dr Sorenson; he still works there. If anyone was overly interested in Jansen's delusions then Sorenson should be able to put a name to him." His tone was disapproving.

"You don't like this Sorenson" She asked curiously.

Dr Mercer sighed. "We've had our dealings."

He didn't elaborate but there was something in his tone that piqued her curiosity. They'd reached Toby's apartment but she turned and was just about to ask about it when she was interrupted by a shout from inside.

"Come in, it's open!" She jumped in surprise, they hadn't knocked yet.

Dr Mercer smiled patiently at her. "It takes some getting used to."

Entering she took in the scene. Toby was sat on the sofa; the rest of the room… the rest of the room looked like the incident room down the station. Small piles of papers littered the floor, or were stuck to a large white board and the walls around it.

"What is this?" She asked staring at the board.

Toby rose and stood next to her, coffee in one hand and in the other another small pile of papers. "You were right I picked up on a lot more than I thought I had. I didn't even realise how much at first."

She gestured for him to carry on.

"This is everything I can remember from when the shooting was taking place." He threw a hand out indicating the whole of the room."

"What time span?" Dr Mercer was crouched close to the floor flicking though several of the piles.

Toby glanced toward him. "From the shooting till sometime after the guy ran off."

There was a low whistle from the academic and Charlie could relate. "All of this in a few seconds?"

Toby nodded at her with a self-conscious shrug.

"Impressive, we knew your range is increasing, but we haven't really looked at your capacity to process and store information. There are limitations to memory, the fact someone saw or heard something isn't indicative of their ability to recall it; if they aren't attentive to the stimulus they simply don't commit it to memory. The fact you processed so much so quickly is…"

Charlie coughed loudly. "…not all that important right now."

Dr Mercer had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry detective."

"This is what you should be interested in." Toby handed her the pile of papers in his hand. "These are the snippets from the shooter."

She flicked through them; three stood out. The first had 'talking to Jansen -- walls – lines on floor.' written on it. She held it up questioningly.

Toby tilted his head slightly, eyes loosing focus as though remembering. "He thought about Jansen, they were talking together in a room with gray walls. There was an open door, and the floor outside had red and green route lines down it, similar to the hospital."

She nodded and held up the next one; it had 'Doctor Sorenson is a liar' scribbled on it. Charlie shot a look at Dr Mercer. "Well that confirms your suspicions."

"Who is Doctor Sorenson, I recognize the name?" Toby asked, looking between her and Dr Mercer, clearly picking up on her recognition.

Dr Mercer stood and came over to them. "He works at 1001 Queen Street. It's likely the shooter met Jansen there." He filled in.

Charlie looked back to the papers in her hand. The final one was a very rough pencil sketch of some rectangles, buildings she guessed, and towering above them the outline of the CN Tower. Toby looked at it. "It's the skyline from somewhere he spends a lot of time. His home maybe, it's where he does his planning I think. I was going to see if Google could help me work out where he is based."

She stared at him intently for a moment. "Okay do it. But if you find anything you come to me right. No running off and investigating by yourself."

"Trust me Charlie I'll be happy to leave this guy to you."

There was an underlying edge to Toby's voice that made her pause. She remembered his demeanour earlier on that day; he seemed on edge and out of sorts. "This guy has you freaked doesn't he?"

Toby's gaze flicked quickly from her to Dr Mercer and back again. "It was just a little too…" He paused and shut his eyes for a moment, a shudder passing through him. When he opened his eyes again he shrugged. "Just catch this guy okay."

Charlie moved to say something but was interrupted by her phone. She answered immediately. "Yes?" It was Martin and she listened as he filled her in on the forensic results.

"Is everything okay?" Dr Mercer asked as soon as she hung up.

She opened her mouth to answer but Toby interrupted. "He's killed before." It was a statement; he must be reading her.

She glared at him, but the expected 'sorry Charlie' never came. She let him off this once as he was clearly on edge. "The gun has been used before," she corrected. "The forensic results link the casings to two recent shootings."

"Not a spree shooting like last night though?" Dr Mercer asked with interest. "I think we would have remembered if something similar had happened recently."

"No, a couple at a bus stop a month ago, and a few months before that a young woman crossing Richmond Park. They weren't linked before because there was only a fragment from the park shootings." Charlie filled them in.

The psychologist nodded. "So he's evolving, getting more confident and more violent."

Evolving, Charlie thought about it for a second, this last incident didn't feel like part of a steady evolution. She turned to Dr Mercer thinking out loud. "Could this be part of some kind of sudden breakdown? Maybe something's changed; something happened that's caused him to abruptly escalate the level of violence." The moment the words came out her mouth she realised her mistake.

"Or someone." Toby stated flatly.

A hundred and one reassuring phrases came to mind but she knew there was no point voicing them. He'd see through them. Could it be that the shooter had been gradually getting braver, trying bigger targets but something in the way Toby had acted last night -- maybe just the fact he had noticed him -- had caused the shooter to lose it?

"Well how do you _expect_ me to react Ray?"

Charlie was confused for a second. Then she realised she hadn't heard the Dr's comment because it hadn't been spoken aloud. "Toby whatever is going on in this nutcase's head is not your fault." She said as firmly as she could.

It was the truth but Toby looked at her, disbelief written across his face. "Just catch him please."

************

"Toby. She's right this isn't your fault." Ray's statement came as soon as Charlie left.

Toby shrugged, trying to keep his demeanour casual despite the tight knot that had formed in his gut. "If I hadn't been there…"

"If you hadn't been there may be less people would have died, or maybe someone else would have set him off. What I do know is that without your warning and help more would have died. We don't know anything for certain and until we find the person who is doing this, and find out why he's doing it we _won't_ know." Ray was, as usual, both patient and supportive.

Looking at the closed door Toby wrapped his arms round his chest, he should be reassured but he felt cold and numb. He shut his eyes and then jerked them open again as the images of the dark, blood stained street and glowing avenging angel filled his mind. The memories weren't fading.

Ray was looking at him with a curious intensity. "There's something else though isn't there? What's wrong?"

Ignoring the question for a moment Toby went to the kitchen and rinsed his mug out. "You want a coffee?"

Ray frowned at him and nodded, "Yes please." _I can't help you find answers if I don't know what the problem is._

Toby couldn't help smiling as he filled the kettle; Ray always reverted to non-verbal communication when he wanted to press an issue. Leaning against the counter he looked at his hands. "I don't think you can help."

"Try me." Ray nudged Toby to one side and started to sort out the coffee.

"I don't know how to…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "They felt like my thoughts."

Ray looked sideways towards the chaos in his lounge and Toby pre-empted the question forming in his mentor's mind. "Not that lot. Before the shooting started… the angel, the 'vision' thing."

"Whoever did these shootings is seriously delusional; it's not surprising that his thoughts seem stronger or more intense than normal."

Toby shook his head. "It's not just that they were stronger, it's like they were mine." He paused realising he was repeating himself. "When I was in that street it was like I was actually seeing everything that way, with my own eyes. Even now looking back on it in, it's like I'm remembering it happen that way. Not remembering hearing his thoughts, remember actually seeing the streets that way." He shrugged tiredly, "sorry Ray, that wasn't much of an explanation."

Smiling Ray handed Toby his mug back. "That's okay, I understand, but I still think it's down to the nature of this man's delusions. There's precedence for this remember Iris Frost? She believed intensely that she was a faith healer, you remember what you saw when you witnessed her _healing_?"

He did. And he could still remember, with amazing clarity, the warm glow leaving Iris's hands and entering the tiny body of the injured baby. But that had been different softer, less invasive and anyway Iris had been a telepath. Toby opened his mouth to say so and then shut it again. He hadn't told Ray that little revelation; although he'd never kept anything from his mentor before it hadn't felt like his secret to tell. He though back, compared the sensations. With Iris it hadn't been as intense or over powering, but it had certainly felt like he was seeing it firsthand.

Taking his coffee he walked to the couch and sat heavily, thinking.

Ray followed sitting nearby. "The intensity might be different but under the circumstances I think we can explain that; and we know you're fallible, how many times have you been misdirected because of what people _believe_ to be true? What you are describing could simply be an extension of that phenomenon."

Toby nodded and forced a smile even though he knew that Ray would see through it. Was Ray right? Or could it be that he'd been right yesterday; could the killer really be a telepath?


	7. Chapter 6: New day, new direction

AN: Again another delay. I'm sorry. Normally I wouldn't start posting without having things nearly finished but the polishing is taking longer than I thought. Thanks for your patience. Hope you are still enjoying things, if so and you have time let me know.

* * *

Chapter 6: New day, new direction

*************

On Sunday the papers had only had the basic facts surrounding shootings. He guessed they'd been printed too early to include much detail. This morning, a day later, and his actions were celebrated on every one of the front pages.

The Sun had eight photos lined up; two rows of four in little squares. Snap shots of the drones, all smiling at the camera as though they had once been real people.

Eight of them. When he'd set off Saturday evening he'd never dreamed he'd kill eight of them.

The photos were repeated in the National Post and the Globe. But on page four of the Toronto Star he found the information he needed. An article giving a more detailed description of the events mentioned that there'd been two off duty paramedics on the scene at the time of the shooting. Next to the article was a photo, a wide faced, foreign looking man stood grinning near the rear of an ambulance and next to him stood the _Mind Thief_.

Toby Logan.

Carefully he cut round the photo his hands trembling with anticipation.

The far wall was empty and waiting. The old plans were gone, irrelevant. He had cleared his room ready for his new mission.

Now he took a single pin and fixed the small picture of the Mind Thief, of Paramedic Toby Logan in the centre of the wall.

He had to find him.

Jansen had taught him so much. But Jansen was like him, alone, looking in from the outside; everything inside Eric told him that this man was important.

* * *

Charlie met Dr Mercer at 10:00am outside the Queen Street site; now part of Cam-H, it was undergoing massive redevelopment. She nodded in greeting as he got out his car. "Thank you for coming."

Dr Mercer smiled at her. "That's okay; I hope I can help out. Though I have to admit I was a little surprised to get your call."

Charlie waved a file at him. "The association with the other shootings brings the random psychopath angle into play. I can't openly link it to Jansen but my boss has given me free reign to go on a fishing trip." It wasn't quite the truth. Becker's reaction had been something between furious and disbelieving. He'd actually told her not to come back till she had some real evidence.

There was a sharp nod of understanding. "That's good. I have to warn you though Dr Sorenson is old school; he's not going to want to give you any more than he has to, and my presence might aggravate things."

Charlie smiled drily, Becker had read her the riot act about her 'on the side' investigations she was in the mood to take it out on someone else. "Good. I could use a challenge."

* * *

If they'd been busy Toby would have been glad to be back at work, but the morning had dragged on with just a few trivial calls. He'd had another restless night still haunted by the intensity of the thoughts he'd got from the shooter and the knowledge he might have been responsible for so many the deaths. He felt jumpy and stressed and he wasn't in the mood for inane banter.

"So I'm thinking, and I don't want to stress you out, but I'm thinking, with Mina and then the other night, the club thing isn't working for us right now. So I've come up with a new plan…"

"Oz! Shut up." Toby cut him off coldly, before he could go into details of his latest scheme. He concentrated on filling out the paperwork in front of him trying to block out his partners confusion.

"Okay, okay, chill," Oz said sounding apologetic. _I don't know what's wrong but don't take it out on me. _

Toby signed the bottom of the form and handed it back to the hospital administrator then turned back to his partner. "Sorry Oz, I'm just tired."

"Don't worry, the one weekend we manage to get off and it gets completely messed up." Oz waved off Toby's explanation but his tone was cooler than normal.

They restocked the ambulance in a silence that was loaded with tension. It was only when they were back on the road, and the silence was so thick it was almost suffocating, that Toby felt he needed to explain.

"Oz?" he waited till his partner glanced across at him. "The other night I saw something in the killers mind. Something really… bad and I froze."

Oz turned back to the road and snorted. "Was that before or after warning everyone so they didn't all get gunned down? Look Toby I know you were a bit out of it at first. But whatever you saw, whatever happened, I think we saved a few."

Toby managed half a smile at Oz's blunt optimism, his dark mood lifting slightly. "Yeah we saved a few."

They sat in silence for a while as Oz manoeuvred the ambulance through the busy streets. "So did you tell detective delicious about the hit, and what we found yesterday?"

"Yeah, and I know they'll get this guy, it's just…" Toby trailed off. He had no words that would help partner understand the intensity of the hit, or the horrifying sensation of completely losing control of your own mind and body. And he couldn't tell bring himself to tell Oz that his presence might have made things worse and that the insane killer may also be a telepath.

"It doesn't change what happened right?" Oz filled in. His partners tone was grave and Toby realised that he probably had his own demons after Saturday night. He doubted anyone who'd been there would be sleeping easy for a long time.

"Hey who's the mind reader here?" He joked trying to lighten the mood he'd created.

Oz flicked his seatbelt off, and Toby belatedly noticed they'd stopped outside a Subway, junk food again. "I've told you man it's Oz-mosis. You want the usual?"

Toby nodded, and with that Oz was gone. He sagged back into his seat and tried to loosen up. People were wandering past the ambulance, going about their everyday business. He let his control relax and started to eavesdrop; it seemed he wasn't the only one suffering from Monday morning blues. Narrowing his focus and control he let the normality of their thoughts and frustrations wash over him in a steady, comforting trickle.

"What's so interesting?"

"Oz!" He complained; the sudden interruption made him jump and lose focus. The ordered thoughts became jumbled and fuzzy, like a hundred badly tuned radios.

His partner had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry." A wrapped sub was thrust at him. "With extra chillies as ordered."

He moved to grab it and stopped. Somewhere in the jumble of static he thought he sensed a familiar mind; cool detachment and distain. It slipped away the moment he tried to focus on it, like the remnants of a dream, or an uninvited memory.

"What is it? Are you getting a hit?" Oz was peering at him curiously.

Taking his lunch Toby shrugged it off. "It's nothing; I'm just a bit jumpy right now." He was sure his voice sounded convincing but as he leaned back and took a bite of his lunch he could help but scan the minds of the people nearby searching for another glimpse.

* * *

"Look detective David Jansen was a popular patient. He had a peculiar charm that goes hand in hand with being a narcissist. I have no idea why you would assume that your shooter had anything to do with his delusions."

Charlie sighed. Dr Sorenson was a small man but his tone, his whole demeanour, was one of self importance and superiority. She wanted nothing better than to punch him and leave. She couldn't though, they were on the right track, the drab gray walls and red and green route lines that marked the floor of the institute's main corridor were just as Toby described them. Instead she plastered a patient smile on her face and pushed on. "We have our reasons, so if you could just humour us I'd be…"

"All of our out-patients who have recovered from serious mental illness or who may have previously posed a risk to society have regular contact with us. We don't just open the gates and dump them on the unsuspecting public, and I think we would have noticed if we'd let a mass-murdering sociopath out." Sorenson objected.

"This may be someone you haven't diagnosed as violent…" Charlie started to say.

Sorenson reacted immediately. "Despite what _Dr_ Mercer may have told you I am actually capable of diagnosing patients." The doctor stood abruptly and turned on Mercer. "20 years and you are still playing these games! Now you choose to drag the police into my business. My diagnosis of the boy was completely sound based on the symptoms he presented with." He paused turning back to Charlie, the weaselly face nearly purple with rage. "Detective despite what this _psychology_ professor might have told you I am a competent and fully trained _psychiatrist_. I can assure you your killer won't have originated from here."

Charlie was taken aback by the rant it was clear that Dr Mercer had been down playing things a bit when he said there was history between the two men.

"Stephan, I can assure you this is not some stunt on my part, eleven people are dead. What Detective Marks meant is that we believe the shooting is part of a sudden break. Prior to Saturday whoever is doing this may have been reticent about acting on his delusions. He will have been seeking validation one way or another. Do any of the following dates have any relevance to any of the patients who were particularly interested in Jansen?" Charlie was impressed as Dr Mercer recited the dates of the other two shootings. He'd managed to placate Sorenson and create what she guessed to be a fairly accurate profile on the fly.

"My god. Hang on a second." Sorenson's moral outrage had dissipated instantly. He pulled a thick folder from a filing cabinet and flicked through it, the color draining from his face. "I remember the 17th of March because it's our wedding anniversary. Oh god." He had clearly found what he was looking for because he sat back down, sagging as though the fight had been sucked out of him. "Eric Carter."

Charlie leaned forward in anticipation; the 17th was the night of the Richmond Park shooting, his first killing. She'd hoped for a couple of suspects or a bit more background information, instead it seemed they may have hit jackpot. "Go on." She urged.

"Eric is currently an outpatient. He presented with paranoid personality disorder and he was intensely delusional. He had a complete breakdown when his mother died five years ago, 17th of March 2004." Doctor Sorenson paused with a heavy sigh. "He spent three years committed here before being released into our outreach program. I had a session with him in the morning that day and I remember it vividly, he was jumpy and anxious he talked about Jansen and wanted me to prove there was no one trying to control him."

"And when you couldn't satisfy him he started to take matters into his own hands." She surmised. Sorenson looked like he was going to protest, or at least shift the blame but Charlie stopped him holding up a hand. "Where is he now?"

********

When they were done Charlie felt relieved to get back outside. Despite all the modernizations she found the centre to be oppressive and Dr Sorenson's attitude frustrating. At least they'd hit the pay-dirt, if Sorenson was right. She turned to Dr Mercer clutching Eric Carter's file against her chest. "If Carter is in halfway housing you should be able to get me in to speak to him."

"Don't you need a warrant for that?" He sounded reticent.

"I only need a warrant if I'm going to arrest him or do a search."

He looked torn. "I have a couple ex-students that work in a support capacity at that particular complex. I could persuade them to let us had a chat with him but…"

Charlie interrupted. "Look I understand you have professional concerns about this but you have to agree this sounds like our guy. I don't have enough to get a search warrant or to arrest him all I'm suggesting is we go and have a chat. If this guy is having some kind of breakdown then I'd rather you come with me and help me understand what I'm seeing, but I _will_ go alone."

That seems to persuade him, and he nodded once. "Alright, I'll drive."

"So…" she started as they pulled out of the main cark park. "You weren't kidding when you said you and Sorenson don't get on."

Mercer frowned. "He's incompetent. They kept him on because they believed the scandal of striking off such a well respected professional would be worse than the damage he could cause in the job."

"If he missed the signs with Carter then I'd say they were wrong."

"Eric Carter probably wasn't interesting or unique enough for Sorenson to pay much attention to him; though god help him if he had been." Dr Mercer sounded bitter.

She looked out the window watching the streets flash by; it was only as they were pulling into the small housing complex that a couple of things clicked into place. "It's personal isn't it?"

"What?"

She looked across at him. "Your disagreement with Sorenson? It's personal. Toby said the name was familiar, and he talked about a boy 20 years ago."

Dr Mercer parked the car and cut the engine but didn't speak.

"I'm a detective. I pick up on these things." She said, prompting him.

There was a heavy sigh and he turned to look at her. "Do you really want to know?"

She didn't but that was beside the point, she'd turned a blind eye to all things Toby Logan for too long and it was coming back to bite her on the ass. It was time to try to understand what she was dealing with. "Yes", she replied firmly.

"A five year old boy presenting with auditory and visual hallucinations, showing signs of aggression mixed with phases of near catatonia. Childhood schizophrenia is very uncommon, usually gradual in onset and generally un-diagnosable until the age of seven." He paused and looked at her intently. "Sorenson saw an opportunity for papers, critically acclaimed peer reviews. It was the case that would give him professional validation. I saw a terrified boy who had no way of controlling or coping with the things he was experiencing."

Her stomach clenched. The picture he painted was so different to the over-confident man she knew now.

_Think of a number between one and… eight million._

He was an annoying, arrogant and a show off; she couldn't imagine him as a frightened child. Except that she'd seen him spooked by his telepathy before; first with Andy Lassiter and then yesterday when she was in his apartment. Something he had sensed had freaked him out, and he wasn't doing a good job of hiding it. For a child to have to cope with those things…

Dr Mercer interrupted her thoughts. "Twenty years ago the quality of the care and support for mental health patients was at best… mixed. If they'd taken him in, whether or not they'd have discovered the truth and it would have been the end of any chance he had for a life. At the time I knew enough and manufactured enough that I could have brought Sorenson down completely; ended his career on a whim." He shifted in the seat so he was facing her full on. "I would do the same today, if I thought Toby was at risk."

And there it was.

The reason he'd suddenly decided to share something so private with her. As threats went it was laughable, in her short time as a detective she'd faced down drug dealers and hard core gang members in the interview room, a mild mannered professor should have been a joke.

But she wasn't laughing.

She got it. For the first time since learning about Toby's telepathy she'd really got it. Not all the bad people in the world wore gang colors or had a record. She thought about Toby institutionalised and under the control of a weasel like Sorensen.

Shuddering at the thought she turned back to him. "Understood." She replied gravely; there wasn't a lot else she could say.

* * *

They'd just finished eating when the call came through. A teenage boy reporting seeing an unconscious man down by lakeside.

With Oz's driving it was only a couple minutes before they were pulling up by the waterfront warehouses. There was no sign of the caller.

Toby glanced at his partner a wry smile on his face. "Prank call near disused warehouses?"

"Yup déjà vue all over again." Oz grinned as he jumped out of the ambulance. "Come on let's do it."

They split up and scouted around for a bit, but there was nothing to see. As they met up at the ambulance Oz shrugged at him. "There must be something in the water, Jones and Prentiss had two no shows out this way this morning, and Li and his partner had one just before lunchtime".

Toby frowned, it happened that way sometimes, a group of bored kids playing an annoying a dangerous game. Hopefully dispatch would have noticed the pattern by now and be working with the police to get to the bottom of the problem. He sighed. "Great and it's not even Halloween yet. What's the plan?"

Oz just smiled and headed back to the ambulance. We c_all it in this time. _

Toby just snorted in amusement and then turned away as Oz started to make the call.

"Oz?" He took a step back and nudged his partner lightly. Silhouetted in the gap between the two warehouses was a small figure on a bike. "What do you think?"

Still on with dispatch Oz glanced over. "Might have been him. Go I'll catch you up."

Slowly lowering his mental defences Toby started to jog towards the boy. "Hey, did you call 911? Do you need an ambulance?" He shouted listening for a response physically and mentally.

For a moment there wasn't one, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end; they were being watched. Toby quickened his pace covering the rest narrow alley in only a few strides. "Hey kid. Hey!"

When he was a few feet away the kid turned away from him and he realised his mistake. The sensation of being watched morphed into distain and eerie fascination. The kid spun his bike round and as he headed off Toby got a glimpse out of his mind.

_A shadowy man asking for a favour. _

_The phone box._

_A twenty dollar note changing hands Queen side up. _

_A man… no glowing angel… close behind him._

Toby spun round abruptly and his head met with the dull end of something solid and heavy.


	8. Chapter 7 : Battle lines

Chapter 7: Odyssey of the Mind

I'm sorry, and I owe you all I just don't have time to explain right now.

* * *

Oz groaned.

A creeping sense of awareness let him know he was lying face down on the cold wet tarmac. Inches from his outstretched hand a black rubber tyre bulged under a heavy weight.

The rig… his mind supplied with something of an annoyed tone.

The air pressure in that tyre was far too low. Oz had been due to check them before going out but his partners bad mood had distracted him. Ryder would have his skin if he found out about the oversight.

Oz was about to turn his head and complain to his partner about it when the situation hit him. He was on his feet in a second, gripping the door of the rig with a white knuckled fist as the world spun around him, and his gut churned.

Slowly, trying to keep his head level he scanned around. He was alone. There was no sign of Toby. He thought about taking a walk around, about shouting out, but he didn't think his head could take it, so he leaned into the ambulance and put a call in to dispatch.

_You better be alive partner, _He thought annoyed,_ because Rider is going to kill us. _

* * *

The apartment complex was actually quite nice, especially in contrast to the rest of the institute buildings. Modern and well designed, but with subtle hints of security, and signs of discrete monitoring that made Charlie question whether Eric Carter could be their man.

The young volunteer, who greeted Dr Mercer as Ray, and bounced on her heels like a hopeful ballet dancer, gasped when she realised the police were looking for one of her wards.

"Oh my god what has he done? I mean it not that I think he's done anything it's just that… they were cutting his contact sessions… and well… some of _us_ thought he wasn't coping… that well…"

Her agitated ramble trailed off as Dr Mercer touched her shoulder. "It's alright Annie, we don't know anything for certain, but we want to have a talk with him before he does do something."

It was a lie but once again Charlie was impressed with his ability to manipulate the truth on the fly. "You said you had concerns about him, why?" She asked carefully.

The girl, Annie, glanced at over at the Dr again and waited for his nod before answering. "He's always been withdrawn and found it difficult being out and with 'normal' people but these last couple of months things have been getting worse." She paused for a minute and glanced around guiltily. "He's breaking curfew, and on a couple of occasions he's tried to a avoid taking his meds."

"You reported it?" Dr Mercer asked bluntly

"Yes of course but…" She paused shooting another apprehensive look at him. "He's only on his first warning and some of the Doctors are quicker at responding to our 'concerns' than others."

Charlie winced slightly at her undertone, if Carter was their man the blame game was going to be going on long after the case was closed and from her experience no one came out of those enquiries well. "Is he here now? Can we speak to him?" She asked pushing the growing foreboding to one side.

Annie shook her head vigorously. "No he left early this morning; he has a job at a packing company on the lakeshore."

"In that case can we see his apartment?" Charlie pressed.

There was a long pause. "I'm not sure… Don't you need a warrant for that?"

Charlie sighed and softened her tone. "Look Annie, we aren't going to touch anything or get you into trouble but we do need to take a look if that's okay."

She could tell it wasn't really okay with young woman, but after another nod from Dr Mercer Annie pulled out a set of keys and lead the way to the third floor apartment.

It wasn't a big space but it was cluttered. Papers and notebooks were scattered everywhere. Bending to pick one up Charlie froze instantly. The pages were partially stuck together and as she eased them apart she was confronted with a news paper cutting of the Richmond Park shooting; scrawled next to it the words:

_It begins. _

With the notebook still in hand she looked out the front window. The CN tower could be seen in the distance. Mentally Charlie compared the view to her memory of the squiggles on the yellow post-it note Toby had shown her.

The rush of adrenalin was instant. The hunt was on. There was no doubt about it, Eric Carter was their gunman; Logan had seen this place in his mind.

She was about to call Dr Mercer over when her phone rang. "Yes." She answered irritably; annoyed at the interruption.

"Detective, I think you need to see this." Dr Mercer was just coming out of the bedroom and she held up a hand to quiet him as she listened… with growing dread… to the speaker on the other end of the line.

"We need to warn Toby." He said the moment she flipped her mobile closed.

Charlie looked past him in to the room he'd just left. On the far wall a solitary picture was pinned up. She recognised it instantly; it was the rather bad photo of Toby and his partner that the ambulance service supplied to the press on occasion, or at least half of it. Ozman Bey and half the ambulance had been torn away, only Toby Logan's grinning face remained.

She turned back to Dr Mercer expression serious. "We're too late."

**********

Finally he reached the safety of his hideout; and as gently as possible he lowered the body to the floor.

For a moment he knelt just staring at the Mind Thief. His heart was pounding; he couldn't believe it had been that easy. A single doubt flickered through his mind; it shouldn't have been that easy, not if this man was what he thought he was.

Quickly he pulled out a couple of long thick zip ties he'd stolen from work. Binding the Mind Thief's wrists together he hooked another through them and round the rough wooden leg of a fixed work bench.

Gently he placed two fingers against the forehead of the unconscious man, then against the pale lips. The skin was warm and hot breath puffed from the open mouth.

Moving away he checked the contents of the small bag he'd left nearby. Everything was ready. He sat down on the cold floor and leant against a thick concrete pillar.

Now all he had to do was wait.

**********


End file.
